Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy.
2 Nephi 2:25
There are dishes in the sink, but they can wait until tomorrow. A pile of dirty clothes on my side of the bed, but I'll sort the laundry another day. Now it is time to sleep. 10:30 at night and I am exhausted. I lay down, turn out the light, kiss Will goodnight.
Tomorrow is my due date. But that hardly means anything. Due dates come and go, some babies are born early, some are born weeks later. Tomorrow will just be another day.
I close my eyes, ready to sleep, and then I feel the first cramp. I have been experiencing the occasional cramp for several weeks. Nothing more than a particularly powerful menstrual cramp, stronger than what I normally experience, but still in that same general area. This cramp is so strong that I get out of bed and do a lap of the apartment. The pain subsides and I return to bed.
I lay there peacefully for a few minutes, and then there is another cramp. Again, I roll out of bed and walk around the living room. This process repeats four or five more times before I decide to take a blanket and sleep on the recliner. No need to keep Will awake for something as minor as cramps. To practice for when the real contractions come, I time a few of the cramps. Ten minutes apart. Surprisingly consistent.
All night long the pain radiates through my lower abdomen and I attempt to get a few minutes of sleep between each cramp. No back pain, no pain in my torso, no tightening of my stomach. Clearly these are not contractions. Eventually, there is a path of smashed carpet fibers outlining a circuitous path around the apartment from my periodic walks.
4:30am finds me on the phone with Melissa, a midwife in my OBGYN's practice, as she reassures me that a little bright red blood is not a cause for concern. It is very common in the early stages of labor. Cramps are six minutes apart. I fail to mention this detail to her.
Will is up at 6:30am and I immediately enter the room to share how much pain I am feeling. My strained voice details what the cramps feel like, and how they are now coming three minutes apart.
"Are you sure they're not contractions?" I shake my head no as another wave of pain washes over me.
"From what I've read, contractions don't feel like this. And I'm able to talk through one right now. There's no way they're contractions."
"Well, should I get ready for work?" I decide it is more than likely that this early labor will progress throughout the day and we will calmly drive to the hospital when Will returns from school this afternoon. He convinces me to call Melissa one more time. It is almost 7:00am.
"Hi, Melissa? Hi, it's Emily Davis again. Hi. I'm sorry to bother you again, but I wanted to tell you that those cramps are now every three minutes and I just don't know what to do. I don't want to go to the hospital because I feel like I'm just in very early labor...Really? Just have them check me out? They can tell me what's going on? Oh, okay. Thanks." I hang up the phone and turn to Will as he is making preparations to leave for work. "She said to go to the hospital. They can tell me what's going on with these cramps. And then I guess I'll just come back home. Are you okay to have someone cover your class this morning?"
We gather up all of Will's items for school. I briefly consider putting on make up, but conclude that I will get ready for the day when we return home from the hospital. I am sure this trip will take no more than an hour.
"Hi, Mom. How are you? We're actually in the car on the way to the hospital. I've been having some pretty serious cramping and the midwife said to come get checked out. So I wanted to put you on alert. I guess things could get serious by the end of today and I could start feeling real contractions."
I am in misery in the car; unable to walk off the pain, I just have to sit and endure. I squeeze Will's wrist with all of my strength. "I'm getting the epidural. I don't care. If I can't even handle these cramps, how am I going to deal with real contractions?"
The Birthing Inn's parking lot at Loudoun Hospital is quiet as we arrive. We leave the hospital bag in the car, certain that we will not be needing it. I inform the receptionist that I am not in active labor, but that my midwife suggested I get checked out because I am experiencing some cramping. I do not fill out the paperwork, and I am not officially admitted to the hospital. I feel ashamed that I am going to be part of that group of first-time parents that arrives at the hospital hours early and is then sent home.
"Alright, hun, what do we have here?" Sitting on the hospital bed in a fresh gown, I am able to tell the triage nurse, despite another powerful cramp, what I believe is going on.
"I've been experiencing cramps all night, and we just thought I should come get checked out so we can see what the situation is. I'm sure it's very early labor. You're probably going to have to send us home!"
"Okay. Let's see what we got...Oh, wow! Well, hun, you're dilated to a nine. Let's get you into a labor and delivery room."
"I'm what?" I can hardly process what I am hearing. Nine centimeters? Not only am I in active labor, I am in transition. An orderly wheels my bed down the hall to labor and delivery because I am too shocked to make the journey myself. Once in the new room, I transfer to the labor bed and sign a lot of forms so I can be formally admitted to the hospital.
Testing positive for Group B Strep several weeks ago leads to an IV of penicillin, and the labor nurse fits me with a wireless monitor to track contractions and the baby's heartbeat. Will calls parents and grandparents to let them know that the baby is coming, probably within just a few hours.
Each cramp, or rather, contraction, is now displayed in jagged waves, marking the pain as the intensity increases, and the relief as it subsides. Few contractions are worse than what I experienced during that long night, most are only longer and closer together. I have to smile at the end of some because both the pain and the relief are so exquisite. Shannon, the new midwife on call for the OB practice, is with me from almost the moment we enter the labor and delivery room. In the coming hours, she marvels several times that I can smile through contractions, or that I seem to only complain of discomfort rather than real pain. I am so tired and so ready to meet my baby, contractions are simply progress towards that goal, and any pain is worth that.
After an hour of labor, Shannon draws a bath and the relief is incredible. Contractions are still uncomfortable, but I can also relax in the hot water. She plays Debussy and Mozart on her phone, and I can almost be totally at peace between contractions. Several hours of labor gives Will the chance to run to the cafeteria for breakfast. I am only interested in ice chips.
Dilated to a nine and three-quarters, I return to the bed to prepare for the pushing phase. 10:00am on October 24th, and my baby is almost here. Labor to this point has been predictable--contractions a minute or two apart with a beginning, peak, and end. Now I feel the need to push at the beginning, but I cannot tell when contractions end. I do not know if I need to keep pushing or if I get to take a break. Shannon counts to ten over and over, seemingly without a pause. "One more time, one more time, keep pushing!" My water finally breaks. I am exhausted. A night of no sleep and the effort of pushing is sapping my energy.
Will blots my forehead with a damp cloth, offers me a drink, and tells me I am doing great. Unfortunately for Will, I have recently made the decision that no one should ever touch me ever again. His supportive hand on my arm is repeatedly brushed away. And yet I need him standing here with a glass of water. This great man is there to give counter-pressure with every contraction, to tell me I am doing so well. I could not do this without him.
I am surprised to find that I am most comfortable pushing while leaning back and holding my own legs. It goes against everything I have read about effective pushing, but it helps me feel better. "I am so uncomfortable. I am so uncomfortable." Pressure on my colon and exhaustion leaves me shifting restlessly between pushes. Shannon gets a kick out of my mutterings, marveling that I am not more distraught or screaming about the pain. I am less amused. I want to be done.
The strain of pushing takes away the pain of contractions but it is also taking too long. Shannon suggests a mild dose of pitocin, to help things along, and on the next push the baby's head makes incredible progress. I will not be doing this with medication, and my body is helping me indicate that. I get to touch my baby's head in between contractions and it gives me renewed strength. Shannon even talks me into the mirror I had sworn for nine months I would not use. Watching the physical process of the head moving is amazing. The female body is remarkable. Will had promised himself he would stand up by my head and watch nothing, but even he is in awe during the delivery.
Finally the head begins to crown. This is the only unbearable pain throughout all of labor. I breathed, relaxed, and talked myself through everything else, but this is truly terrible. I cannot even push as much as I want. Shannon keeps calling out for me to wait, to breathe, to avoid a tear. But I am done. Nothing can be worse than all of this wretched pushing. The baby has a large head that causes one tear, and my impatience causes another. I take a moment to blame Will's big head for the length of the pushing stage. It feels good to laugh.
"Okay, Emily, a great big push!...Okay! The head is out! One more, one more push for the shoulders!" 12:35pm on October 24th, 2014, my exact due date, and my beautiful baby boy, Witten Grayson Davis, is born and crying and lying on my chest. It is a moment of victory. All of that work to have my baby, and with no pain medication, no augmentation of labor, no episiotomy. Only two IV doses of penicillin.
When I first told Will that I was considering natural childbirth he was surprised that I wouldn't take pain relief when it was so readily available, but I knew that it was something I wanted to do. I had two first degree tears that had to be stitched up and made the first few weeks of recovery painful and uncomfortable, but it was all worth it. I'm proud that I let my body do exactly what it was designed to do.
In the Garden of Eden, Eve made the profound and conscious decision to eat of the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil. She knew that she would have to leave the Garden, but that she would also be able to fulfill the commandment to multiply and replenish the Earth. I feel like a part of the legacy of Eve to have been privileged to bring life into the world. Just as thousands of women before me have given birth naturally, I was also able to do so. I feel so blessed to have had the exact birth experience I wanted.
The experience of labor, delivery, and these early weeks of motherhood have brought me indescribable joy. Yes, there was a lot of pain. Yes, some things have been very difficult. Yet, "it must needs be, that there is an opposition in all things. If not so...righteousness could not be brought to pass, neither wickedness, neither holiness nor misery, neither good nor bad." Natural childbirth has offered a foil to all the happiness I have felt since. I was exultant in that moment of holding my son because it had been so difficult to get to that point. Every trying moment, the lack of sleep, the constant laundry, the unexplained crying and fussing, all pales to the sweet moments of my baby sleeping on my chest, smiling at his dad, being full of love, and being privileged to care for one of Heavenly Father's children.
Adam did fall, but it was all part of the Plan, and now we can have joy.
Theme Song: There Is Sunshine In My Soul Today, Eliza E. Hewitt and John R. Sweney
Prenatal Reading Library: The Gift of Giving Life: Rediscovering the Divine Nature of Pregnancy and Birth; Pushed: The Painful Truth About Childbirth and Modern Maternity Care; Husband-Coached Childbirth: The Bradley Method of Natural Childbirth; Better Birth: The Ultimate Guide to Childbirth from Home Births to Hospitals
